


I wouldn't have said it if I knew he was here.

by alikatastic



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bad Parent Frank Gallagher, Frank Gallagher Being an Asshole, Frank Gallagher has a gun, Gun Violence, Hurt Ian Gallagher, ROTC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:40:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29095161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alikatastic/pseuds/alikatastic
Summary: Mickey stops by the Gallagher house after work because he is worried for his Gallagher. What he finds reminds him that life is short, and maybe he shouldn't miss important moments. Like kissing the boy he loves and teaching Carl how to fire a gun.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 3
Kudos: 145





	I wouldn't have said it if I knew he was here.

Mickey couldn't believe the life he led that left him standing on the Gallagher household's stoop. Truly he just wanted to know if his Gallagher was around; he rushed out of work with no explanation over an hour ago. The redhead had answered the phone, listened for a few moments, then left. Mickey knew it was really none of his business, but they had been getting closer for weeks; Mickey didn't want to admit that he was feeling worried.

He stood in front of the door with his hands in his raggedy jacket. He knew this was the last moment he had to change his mind. He closed his eyes, debating if it was worth it, when he heard yelling from inside. He was a Milkovich; yelling was nothing new to him, but he also heard crashing and Fiona begging.

"Let him go!" He could hear the fear in her voice.

Mickey knew this was it; he couldn't hesitate any longer. He opened the door peaking in, making sure he wasn't misinterpreting the noises. What he saw shocked him. Frank had his hands around Ian's throat, Lip and Fiona were trying to pull Frank off as Ian pulled at the fingers around his neck. Mickey could see Ian had a busted nose and lips and a split eyebrow. Frank had a busted nose and blood coating his teeth.

Mickey quickly kicked down, taking out Frank's knee, but Frank did not let go. He pulled Ian to the floor and hit him one more time before Mickey kicked him in the chin sending him flying back. He grabbed Frank by the collar of his shirt and slung closer to the door. Mickey turned his attention to Ian, not paying attention to Lip dragging Frank out.

"Jesus Christ, Gallagher. What the Fuck?"

Ian just laughed and sat up. "Mickey." He smiled brighter. "What are you doing here?" Mickey was confused at the glowing smile Ian sported.

"Checking on your ass. You ran out of work like the devil was on your tail."

"Oh yeah! I forgot. Carl!"

Ian staggered to his feet and headed upstairs. Mickey followed quickly behind him. Carl was in a bundle under the blankets, and Mickey could hear sniffles.

"Hey, bud. You can come out now." Ian kneeled next to the bed.

"I'm so sorry, Ian," Carl said but didn't move.

"Hey, come one now. It's not your fault."

Carl slung back the blanket. "I didn't know he was here. I wouldn't have said it if he was here."

"You were excited. You are allowed to be excited." Ian ran his fingers through Carl's hair. Mickey didn't think the little psychopath would be affectionate.

"I just wouldn't have said it in front of him. It's my fault Frank hit you."

"Bud." Ian sighed and sat down on the floor, looking at Carl. "Frank doesn't like me. You don't have to change your moods to make Frank happy. We all stopped doing that a long time ago."

"Are we still going shooting tomorrow?"

"Of course. And hey, maybe Mickey will want to come." Ian looked back at Mickey.

"Yeah, small fry. I can teach you all about guns and shooting."

Carl laughed, sitting up. "No! Ian is the best. Did you know they call him sharpshooter in ROTC?"

"Mick and I will have to have a little competition then." Ian stood pulling Carl with him. "Head downstairs; Fi was making dinner before the ruckus."

"Thanks, Ian." Carl headed to the door. "I meant what I said, you know."

Ian waited until he was gone to groan and try and stretch his neck. "Fuck. That hurts." He pulled off his shirt and scrubbed it over his face. "Hey, do me a favor." He looked at Mickey. "Wet this for me." He tossed the shirt to him and opened his bedside table to grab his weed.

Mickey headed back out to dampen the tee shirt. He stopped in the hallway when he heard Carl talking.

"Why does Frank hit Ian? He's never hit Lip or me."

"I know, bud, but do you remember that Frank isn't Ian's Dad?" He assumed Carl nodded. "When Frank looks at Ian, he's reminded that he is such a shitty husband that his wife cheated on him."

"But that's not fair."

Mickey scoffed and stepped into the bathroom. He wet the towel and headed back to the room. Ian was laid back on the bed smoking a joint and poking at his sore ribs. Mickey grabbed the smoke and handed Ian the shirt. Ian slowly sat up, and Mickey sat next to him.

"I could kill him, you know?" Mickey said with a smirk.

"Shit. I could kill him, but no." Ian shook his head and frowned at the headache he now had.

"You like him beating on you?" Mickey huffed out, not that he could really say anything. Terry had his moods too.

Ian searched his face trying to name the emotion he heard in Mickey's voice. "No, but if he died, Lip, Debbie, and Carl would go into foster care, and they'd ship me off to live with Clayton. It's not worth it."

After Ian was done cleaning his face, he took the joint back. They passed it between them until it was done, and Ian stood pulling on a new shirt. They both walked downstairs, where the family was fixing their plates.

Fiona looked up and smiled. "Grab a plate, Mickey. We have pasta."

Before he could answer, Mandy walked through the back door. "Cool. I haven't missed dinner." She paused, looking at Mickey then Ian. "Shit, man. Fight with Frank?"

Carl sighed from the table. "It's my fault."

Mandy pushed by, fixing herself a plate. "I doubt it. Remember last week when he threw that plate at Ian? I'm pretty sure he's always looking for a reason."

"Can we drop it, please?" Ian begged while fixing him and Mickey a plate. Mickey took it with a smirk and muttered something about housewives.

Lip laughed. "Yeah, remember when he headed butted Ian because he asked if a shirt was his? That turned into an all-out brawl."

"Like I said, drop it." Ian glared. "So, tell me more about the ROTC thing?"

Mickey watched Carl light up. "Coach Spraggins said if I'm serious about it, he'll start teaching me after school. He said if I put in the extra work, I can do really good."

"Ian started playing with guns and stuff when he was your age, too," Fiona said. "But I don't want you doing anything without him there. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Fiona." Carl looked down.

"So, what brought you over, Mickey?" Fiona asked.

"This giant ran out of work like something was wrong. I was just making sure he'd be able to work the rest of his shifts."

Fiona smiled; she knew that was only a half-truth when Ian blushed. The rest of dinner went without a hitch, and Fiona offered for Mickey to stay the night.

"Mandy practically lives here. They'll be down in the basement; you can hang out in the boys' room with Ian and Carl."

Fiona didn't miss the way Ian lit up when Mickey said he'd stay. She couldn't believe two of her brothers were in love with the Milkovich twins. Ian pulled Mickey back up the stairs giving him sleep pants and a tee shirt. Fiona wouldn't be surprised if Mickey left with it tomorrow. When she peeked in later, all three boys were asleep, so she popped in her earplugs and passed out.

When the front door slammed hours later, Ian jumped up. He looked around, noticing Mickey was sleeping like the dead, and Carl was staring at him. He brought his finger to his lips, telling Carl to stay quiet. Ian quietly left the room, shutting the door behind him. Frank was at the bottom of the stairs, seemingly waiting for him. Ian noticed the bat wasn't hanging on the wall.

"It's always you." Frank pointed at Ian. "Starting fights, you can't finish."

"You need to leave, Frank; everyone is asleep."

Frank headed to the Kitchen with Ian on his heels. "No. You will not kick me out of my own house again."

"Get fucked, Frank." Ian tried to lead Frank to the door.

"I got Something. I won't let you do this anymore." Frank slurred; he was trashed.

"I don't do shit to you. You need to leave Frank." Ian's voice rose, but he wouldn't yell. He didn't want to wake the house.

Everything froze when Frank pointed a gun at Ian. "Not this time. I won't let you do this again, Clayton."

Ian put both his hands up and backed away. "Shit."

"Don't fucking move!" Frank spat.

Upstairs, Carl knew something was wrong. He climbed out of bed and shook Mickey awake.

"What the fuck?" Mickey groaned, rolling over to look at Carl.

"Something is wrong. Ian went downstairs to kick Frank out and hasn't come back yet." He whispered even though they were alone.

"Stay up here, kid."

Mickey quickly left the room and slowly eased down the hall toward the kitchen. From the top of the stairs, he could see Frank aiming a gun. He searched for Ian, who was backed against the fridge with his hands up.

"Come on, Frank. I'm not Clayton." Ian tried to keep his voice calm.

"Shut the fuck up." Frank rushed forward, putting his back to the stairs.

Mickey quickly rushed down the stairs and was reaching for Frank when the gun went off. Ian slammed against the fridge, and Mickey tackled Frank to the ground. He grabbed the gun and hit Frank over the head with it. Mickey set the gun on the counter as he rushed to Ian's side. He was sitting in a pool of blood, leaning against the fridge.

"Fuck." He gasped out. "He fucking shot me."

"Where?" Mickey started searching for the bullet wound.

Ian led his hand to his shoulder. Carl came sliding next to Mickey, helping him lay Ian on his back. Fiona was dialing 911 while Lip was holding Mandy.

"It's okay, Ian. You'll be fine." Mickey whispered as he grabbed a towel from the counter and pressed it to the wound. "Hey, look at me." He tried to grab his attention as he tried not to notice the blood pooling below his knees. "You are going to be okay."

Ian looked up at him. "Mickey. I love you. I know you can't love me, but I've wanted to say that for months. I fucking love you, Mickey Milkovich."

"No. You're not doing this. You can tell me this later when you are not bleeding out."

Ian smiled. "You don't have to say it." Ian reached out with a bloody hand touching Mickey's cheek. "I love you."

Mickey deflated. "I love you too, now shut up until the paramedics get here. I need you alive. You can't leave like this."

"You got to make sure to take care of Carl. Sometimes Lip and Fiona forget that he's a kid too, not just Liam. Take him shooting and teach him all the shit you wish you knew earlier, okay?"

"When you're better, we'll take him."

Mickey looked up at Carl, who was holding Ian's hand. Carl would have never guessed Mickey Milkovich could ever look so wrecked. When the paramedics got there, it took Lip, Carl, and Mandy to pull him from Ian. They all hoped into Kevin's truck and rushed to the hospital.

They were all sitting in the waiting area. Everyone who walked by was staring at Mickey; he was covered in blood. It had soaked through the thin pajama pants, his hands were covered, and he had a handprint on his face.

"Mickey, you need to clean up," Mandy said as she reached for him. She stepped back when he flinched away.

He was staring down the hallway where they took Ian. His body was tense, and he didn't think he could move. He was frozen in time; he was stuck hours ago when he debated if he should kiss the redhead. He regretted it now. He knew now that he should have kissed him. He logically knew he might never get the chance, and it made him sick to his stomach.

"Hey, Mickey." Carl tried to get his attention. "I think Ian might be scared if he sees you covered in blood. Let's go to the bathroom and get clean before we see him."

For the first time in an hour, Mickey looked away from the swinging doors. He looked at Carl with a dead expression. "I…" Mickey couldn't get the words out.

"Come on. They brought you some scrubs to put on." Carl touched his arm to lead him away.

Mickey stood, leaning on Carl, who lead him to the restroom. Carl walked in with Mickey locking the door behind them. Carl wet the towel that the Nurse gave him and gently grabbed Mickey's hand, scrubbing the blood from the skin.

"He's going to be okay."

Mickey looked at Carl, shocked. "I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for, man. I think you're in shock."

He grabbed the towel from him and started cleaning his face. "Yeah, but he's your brother. I should be helping you."

Carl sighed and handed Mickey the scrub pants. He quickly changed and looked in the mirror, glad he didn't look like a psychopath anymore. Carl opened a plastic bag and put the pants in there. Mickey turned on the water and scrubbed his hands; he didn't want any of Ian's blood on him anymore. He knew he would see it in his dreams for the rest of his life. When they stepped back out, he could see the sigh of relief from everyone there. He took his seat back and looked at the Gallaghers. Lip grimaced but handed him a jacket; he had not realized he was shaking.

When the doctor stepped out, calling for Gallagher, they all stood. Fiona grabbed his arm and pulled him to the front.

"How is he?"

"He is in recovery now. The bullet fragmented and got lodged near the subclavian artery; we had to go in and remove the fragment. He is looking at physical therapy and weakness in his left arm. He is going to be in pain for a time, but he is okay."

"When can we see him?"

"We have to get him settled in a room; then we can take you back. We can only allow two in the room at a time."

Lip threw a hissy fit when Fiona brought Mickey back and not him. Ian was still asleep when they stepped into the room. Mickey heard Fiona gasp, but he couldn't take his eyes off of his Gallagher. He slowly rounded the bed. Ian's hands were tucked under the blanket, so Mickey shifted it so that his hand could grab Ian's under the material. When he felt Ian's fingers twitch, he looked at Fiona before searching Ian's face. He saw Ian's eyes flutter as he began to wake up.

"Ian." Ian's face scrunched up. "Gallagher, wake up."

"Mick?" Ian whispered.

"Yeah, man. You doing okay? Need more drugs?" Fiona scowled as Ian laughed.

"Can't feel shit." Ian squeezed his hand hard. "Did you mean it?"

For a moment, Mickey was confused, but then he gave a small laugh. "Yeah, but don't expect that shit to fucking often."

"Only when I'm dying?"

"Nah, maybe when you suck my dick."

Ian let out a hearty laugh before grimacing in pain. "Oww. Don't make me laugh." He rubbed his chest near the bullet wound.

"What it's true, you suck dick like a goddamn pro." He blushed when Fiona laughed. He had forgotten she was there.

"Hey, kiddo. What happened?" Fiona combed his hair back.

"He thought I was Clayton. It was an accident, I think."

Fiona felt the distaste written all over Mickey's face. "He choked you just this afternoon. He knew you weren't Clayton then."

Ian sighed. "I don't know what you want me to say."

Fiona searched his face, seemingly for answers. "I don't know either. I'm not sure what any of us are supposed to say or do. Tony called while you were in surgery. They arrested him."

Ian didn't know if that made him feel any better. On the one hand, he wouldn't have to see Frank while he was locked up, but on the other hand, the fact that Frank was still alive grated on his nerves. Fiona smiled at him and pressed a small kiss to his forehead.

"I'm going to go get Lip. Why don't you sit down, Mickey?"

She left the two alone. Ian sighed and let his eyes fall closed. "This fucking sucks." He whispered.

"I know, man. You need to get better quickly; we still need to take Carl shooting. Can't have him ruining your reputation by being a shitty shot."

Ian laughed again. He fell asleep with a smile on his face. Mickey watched him breathe and let out a sigh of relief himself. He pressed a small kiss to Ian's lips, knowing he would have to kiss him more often. He didn't want to miss any more chances.


End file.
